


Push & Pull (Zutara Week 2019)

by catie_writes_things



Series: Zutara Week [2]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ember Island (Avatar), Episode: s03e17 The Ember Island Players, F/M, Found, Gifts, Pai Sho, Shattered - Freeform, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Youth, Zutara Week, Zutara Week 2019, capture fic, easier, mentor, speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-23 20:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20014303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catie_writes_things/pseuds/catie_writes_things
Summary: 1. Gifts - A belated birthday present, and an explanation.2. Speak - Good ol' fashioned capture fic.3. Shattered - The Painted Lady comes to Ba Sing Se.4. Mentor - "Who taught you how to play pai sho?"5. Youth - Katara hates Zuko. Southern Sun AU.6. Found - "That's something we have in common." And that's when it starts. Soulmate AU.7. Easier - Ember Island, intermission. He wasn't looking for her, but he found her anyway.





	1. Gifts

“What’s this for?” Katara asked, blinking in confusion at the object that Zuko had just set before her on the low table of the sitting area in her guest suite at the palace. It was a mid-sized wooden box, painted with delicate blue and white wave patterns. The lid had an image of Tui and La made from inlaid ebony and mother-of-pearl, and the fastenings appeared to be silver. It looked more expensive than anything Katara owned.

“Well, I know I, uh, missed your birthday,” Zuko explained apologetically, one hand rubbing the back of his neck. He was seated on the couch opposite her, the table and the box in between them. “So, happy...belated?” Zuko may have been wearing his formal Fire Lord robes, with his hair pulled back, but the shy grin tugging at his lips was the same one Katara remembered from their days hiding out on Ember Island, when the two of them had finally been able to settle into a real, easy friendship.

Those days were still less than a year ago, but a lot had happened since then.

“You’ve been busy running a country,” Katara reminded him, delicately touching the image of the moon spirit. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” Certainly not something as nice as this box - though Katara supposed Zuko might feel like he had to give fancy gifts, being royalty and all.

“I wanted to,” Zuko insisted. “And I wanted to send it to you at the south pole in time for your actual birthday, but it took longer than I expected to...well, anyway, now I get to give it to you in person.” He cleared his throat, probably realizing he was rambling. “Are you going to open it?”

Katara’s eyes widened. “There’s more than just the box?”

“Of course,” Zuko replied, leaning forward. “Go ahead, look.”

Carefully, Katara unlatched the silver fastenings and tipped the lid back on its hinges. The interior of the box was plain black lacquer, but its contents were a mix of scrolls, jewelry, carved ivory figurines, and other objects - all of them clearly Water Tribe. On top of the little hoard was a particular scroll that Katara recognized.

“Is that…” she said in amazement, picking it up and unrolling it. Sure enough, there were the familiar illustrations - the basic waterbending forms, just as she had first seen them. “How did you get this?”

“Well, I didn’t steal it,” Zuko replied, and the utter cheek of this answer broke the tension. Katara laughed, and a proper smile lit up Zuko’s face like the dawn. “I tracked down the buyer, and made him a better offer,” he went on with unguarded enthusiasm. “But along the way, we found a lot of other Water Tribe stuff that had been sold on the black market, so...that’s what the rest of it is.”

Katara looked at the other treasures - sacred objects and lost art, the history and culture of her people. This was more than just an extravagant birthday gift. She replaced the waterbending scroll in the box, and shut the lid, one hand resting on Tui and La. “Zuko,” she said solemnly, eyes fixed on the box. “This is  _ priceless.” _

She looked back up to find Zuko awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck again, and though he quickly checked the nervous gesture, she didn’t miss how his hand paused for just a half a moment over his chest, right where the lightning scar would be, before it fell to his lap. “It’s not enough,” he said softly. His smile was gone, and Katara missed it. “I know there was more that you...that my people took.”

Katara was silent for a moment, staring at the scar on his chest as surely as if she could see it through his robes. She knew very well where it was, what it looked like. She could never forget what had happened. But there was one thing she still didn’t know. “Why did you do it?” she said at last.

“It was the right thing to do,” Zuko said, evasively. “You deserved it.”

Katara frowned, unsure what to make of that answer. “So you had to?”

“No,” Zuko replied quickly, with such force that Katara’s eyes snapped up to meet his. “I  _ wanted _ to.”

“I’m not just talking about the box,” Katara shot back.

Zuko reached the rest of the way across the table and took hold of her hand over the image of Tui and La. “Neither am I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got halfway through writing this before I remembered that Katara actually still has the waterbending scroll at the end of the episode, but I didn't want to pass up the detail of including it here. Let's just say this scene takes place in the same AU as Day 2, which will make sense when you read it.


	2. Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remember season one capture fic? Pepperidge Farm remembers.

The pirates had escaped with the waterbending scroll, and the Avatar had slipped from his grasp again, but Zuko still had the waterbender, and even if she wasn’t going to tell him anything useful, he was pretty sure the Avatar would come back to attempt another rescue at some point. He certainly hoped so, anyway, because ever since he’d gotten her back to his ship, the girl had clammed up and stubbornly refused to say a word.

“What is it you want?” he asked her through the bars of her cell on the second day of her captivity. Uncle had objected to putting the girl in the brig, but she  _ was _ a prisoner. “There must be something, if not the necklace…”

Seated on the narrow bunk in her cell, as far from him as she could get, the girl was determinedly looking past him, gaze fixed somewhere on the far wall, but she narrowed her eyes at the mention of the necklace -  _ her mother’s necklace,  _ she’d said, before her selective mutism began. It was once again tucked securely into his sleeve, the blue stone resting against the inside of his wrist. But if there was anything else she wanted badly enough to break her silence, she offered no suggestions.

Undaunted, Zuko pressed on, speculating. “Do you want me to chase down those pirates and get that waterbending scroll for you?” Based on what Zuko had seen, the girl was clearly untrained, and badly in need of proper instruction in how to control her element. But she only looked down at the floor, as if embarrassed. “What about a real teacher?” he offered instead. “I can bring you to the North Pole. They have master waterbenders there.”

That got her to look at him, at least, which was progress, even if the look was a glare that made him glad she had no water on hand, untrained though she might be. She still said nothing, but if reasonable negotiating wasn’t working, maybe making her angry was his best bet to get her to crack…

He plucked the necklace out of his sleeve and held it up to the light, as if considering. “I guess this wasn’t worth much to you after all,” he said pointedly. “Maybe there’s no reason for me to hold on to it, then, and I should just toss it overboard…”

The girl’s silence was shattered with a scream as she threw herself against the bars of her cell, thrusting one arm through the iron grate to grasp futilely for the necklace that had been out of her reach even before Zuko had taken two startled steps backwards. He hadn’t expected her reaction to be  _ that _ strong…

“You…” he began, not knowing what to say. But the girl cut him off with another inarticulate howl of rage, pounded her fists uselessly against the bars, and then shocked him again by sinking to the floor of her cell, drawing her knees up to her chest and...oh spirits, was she  _ crying? _

He stood there at a loss. She had hidden her face from him, but the way the girl’s shoulders shook left little doubt. Uncle was really going to let him hear it now…

His uncle. Iroh would be better at handling...this sort of thing. Maybe he should let him talk to the girl for a while, see if she would say anything to him. They had to get her talking, if the Avatar didn’t show up, and even if he did, any information could be useful. Yes, he had better let Iroh try.

With that resolve, he turned and marched out of the brig.

Zuko found his uncle with the off-duty crewmembers, engrossed in, what else, a pai sho match. He cleared his throat to draw his uncle’s attention away from the game.

“Prince Zuko!” Iroh exclaimed happily when he saw his nephew standing there, arms crossed impatiently. “Would you believe it, my lucky lotus tile was in my sleeve the whole time!” He plucked the game piece in question off the board and held it up for Zuko to see.

“If you’ve picked up that piece, you have to move it, General Iroh,” the crewman playing opposite him chided. 

Iroh shushed him and set the lotus tile back where it had been, then got to his feet. “Ensign Leung will play for me for a while,” he said, gesturing for the younger man to take his seat, “while I see what Prince Zuko wants with me.” Then he looked at Zuko expectantly.

With an exasperated sigh, Zuko led his uncle back towards the brig. “It’s the waterbender,” he explained as they walked. “I think you should talk to her.”

“I see,” Iroh replied slowly. “I take it she has not been receptive to your...persuasions.”

His uncle might as well have called them threats, the way he said it. “I didn’t try to hurt her or anything!” Zuko said defensively. He wouldn’t stoop to treating an unarmed captive like that. They reached the hatchway that led to the brig, and Zuko’s steps faltered. Hopefully the girl had been able to compose herself by now.

He glanced back at his uncle, who was giving him a patient look. “Well, go ahead!” he said gruffly, waving his uncle forward. He’d had enough one-sided conversation with the girl for today.

Iroh gave a low hum and shook his head, but pushed past Zuko and let himself into the brig, shutting the hatch behind him. Zuko stood outside for a minute - not eavesdropping, the metal bulkheads were too thick for that - but curious in spite of himself how the conversation would go. Then he shook himself out of his reverie, and headed back up on deck to see if there had been any sign of the Avatar coming to her rescue.

There had been none, and Zuko saw no more of his uncle either until much later - not because he had been  _ avoiding _ him or anything, just because he had a ship to command and he was  _ busy.  _ Iroh finally cornered him in his cabin when he was finishing his evening meditation.

“Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Iroh said, sitting down across from his nephew. “But our waterbending friend was not interested in speaking to me, either.” He gave a half-chuckle, then added, “Though she did laugh at my joke about the tigerdillo and the hogmonkey!”

Zuko groaned. “I can’t believe this,” he muttered to himself.

“I get the impression,” Iroh went on in a more pointed tone, “that you said something which upset her.”

“She’s a prisoner on an enemy ship!” Zuko snapped back. “Of course she’s upset!” He clenched his fists, and the girl’s necklace, once again tucked safely into his sleeve, pressed gently against his wrist. Obviously he wasn’t going to throw it away, there was nothing to be gained by giving up the one bargaining chip he had over her. It had been a stupid, empty threat and she should have realized that.

“If you say so,” Iroh replied, clearly not convinced. “I will try speaking to her again tomorrow, if you like. Hopefully, she will be in a better mood.”

“We’ll see,” Zuko said noncommittally, trying not to shrink under his uncle’s accusatory gaze. Thankfully, Iroh let him be after that with nothing more than a perfunctory offer of calming tea before bed, which Zuko declined.

When he was alone, Zuko pulled the necklace out of his sleeve again, turning the stone over in his palm. It wasn’t anything impressive to look at, rather primitive really. But, of course, it had belonged to the girl’s mother. Closing his fist around the necklace, he came to a decision.

He made his way hastily back to the brig before he could think better of it. Lighting a lantern so he could see in the darkness, he was surprised to find the girl still awake and alert. Perhaps it was a waterbender thing, and she was as energized at night as he was during the day.

“Here,” he said, reaching through the bars of her cell in a mirror image of what she had done earlier. She also shrank back from him, the traces of her tears just visible in the dim light. “Your necklace. Take it.”

The girl eyed the blue pendant hanging from his outstretched hand with wordless suspicion. Well, that was to be expected. “Alright, here, look,” he said irritably, withdrawing his arm and crouching down. He reached through the lower bars this time and set the necklace down gently on the floor of the cell, pushing it towards her and then backing away. “It’s not a trick. Take it.”

The girl waited a moment, then took one step towards the necklace. She started to reach for it, but froze halfway through the motion, gaze shooting warily back towards him. Zuko held up both hands to show he meant he no harm. After another moment, the girl hastily retrieved the necklace from the floor, then retreated back to her bunk, clutching her prize to her chest. And then, meeting his eyes without any less suspicion, she finally spoke.

“Why?” was all she said.

Why, indeed? Zuko could hardly put it into words himself. “If I had something that belonged to my mother,” he said roughly, “I’d be more careful not to lose it.”

The girl opened her mouth, undoubtedly to let out some sharp retort of her own, and Zuko was eager to hear what she would have to say, now that she was finally speaking to him. But he never got the chance. From up on deck, an alarm sounded. The Avatar had come at last. He ran out of the brig without a second glance, to confront the Avatar and fulfill his destiny.

But destiny, it seemed, was not done mocking him yet. The Avatar escaped, and so did the waterbender.


	3. Shattered

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Painted Lady comes to Ba Sing Se, but she isn't the only one prowling the city by night.

It was a year since the war ended and they were all in Ba Sing Se again. It was supposed to be a vacation, just a chance to relax and spend time with old friends, but you couldn’t put the Avatar, the Fire Lord, and the Earth King all in one city and expect no one to talk business. Still, Katara was disappointed just how much time the official meetings wound up taking out of their schedule.

She was also disappointed at how little they seemed to be accomplishing. There was sickness in the lower ring that year, and Katara had offered her services as a healer, only for the Earth King to politely inform her that he could not legally accept foreign aid of any kind unless it was formally offered by the leaders of her nation. He would write to her father, the chief, right away, of course. But receiving a reply could take weeks.

Finding the veils and red pigments she needed to don her Painted Lady costume, however, had only taken her one afternoon. Foreign aid from a Water Tribe healer might be caught up in legal red tape, but there were no regulations on miraculous healings by spirits.

Shrouded in white gauze, Katara offered a quick prayer of apology to the Lady for her impersonation, then set off into the night to do what needed to be done.

* * *

Zuko couldn’t believe things in Ba Sing Se had actually gotten worse since it had been liberated. Under the control of Long Feng, and then his sister, the Dai Li had terrorized the city - but they had at least kept order as well. The new police force the Earth King had established to replace the Dai Li weren’t half as competent, and with the brutal repression no longer in force, disease was hardly the only thing running rampant in the lower ring.

In his first year as Fire Lord, Zuko had become accustomed to solving problems through politics and diplomacy. He knew the Earth King was learning to do the same, and that this was ultimately the best way to go about things, the right way. It still wasn’t his preferred method.

The Fire Lord could hardly march into the lower ring and start rounding up criminals, of course. But the notorious outlaw known as the Blue Spirit never had been caught, and he had been known to stalk the streets of Ba Sing Se before. The mask would be easy enough to find - it was a stock character, virtually any theater company would have one, which made it the perfect untraceable alter ego as well.

That night, on the rooftops of Ba Sing Se, the Blue Spirit was on the prowl once again.

* * *

Slipping in and out of homes without notice was rather more difficult in the crowded lower ring of the world’s largest city than it had been in a small Fire Nation village. By the third house she visited, Katara was beginning to regret her choice of costume as well. The wide hat, flowing veil, and voluminous robe were hardly the most practical attire for sneaking around, and she realized that if anyone here did see her, they were unlikely to be familiar enough with Fire Nation river spirits to be assuaged by her disguise.

Perhaps, she had not thought this through.

But she was here now, and she would press on, at least for this one night. These people needed her help. Even if she couldn’t heal all of them, she had to do something. And in spite of her cumbersome outfit, things seemed to be going well - none of her patients had woken while she worked, and she had managed to duck out of sight of any other nighttime prowlers she crossed paths with while darting from house to house.

When she came to the last building on the street, she thought she caught a glimpse of a dark shape on the roof as she ducked into the small apartment above the tightly locked up shop, but she ignored it and set to work healing the shopkeeper and his wife. This proved to be her latest mistake, as a pair of strong arms grabbed her from behind, one hand covering her mouth.

Furiously, Katara bended the water she had been using to heal into a whip that cracked against the side of her attacker’s head, causing him to let go of her with a grunt. Another water whip while he was still dazed knocked the masked man into the opposite wall, where a set of rickety shelves held all the earthen cookware the poor shopkeeper and his wife owned.

The impact rattled the shelves, and all the plates, cups, jars, and pots came tumbling down - and shattered.

* * *

Darting across the rooftops of the city was even easier than Zuko remembered, without the Dai Li to worry about. It didn’t take him long either, once he’d made his way to the lower ring, to find the kind of trouble he was looking for. The first robber he came across was hardly expecting the Blue Spirit to swoop down on him from above, and never stood a chance. Though once Zuko had the man disarmed and tied up, suddenly he realized he had to decide what to do with him next.

Perhaps, he still wasn’t good at thinking things through.

He could dump the thief on the doorstep of a police station, but without evidence of his crimes there wasn’t much the police would be able to do. It might be best to just leave him in the street, and let him try to explain to the neighbors in the morning what had happened. Of course, he would probably just lie, and claim he’d been attacked while out for an innocent midnight stroll.

Well, hopefully being waylaid by the Blue Spirit would be enough of a lesson for him. Zuko took to the rooftops again and set off for the next block over, scanning the dark streets for any other potential ne'er do wells. He halted on the roof of a two-story building at the end of the block just as a cloaked and veiled figure tried the locked doors of the shop on the ground floor, then hoisted itself into the apartment above though an open window. That was definitely suspicious.

Zuko entered the apartment though the same window and saw the mysterious prowler bent over the two sleeping forms of the residents. He leapt forward and grabbed the stranger, trying to drag them away from the potential victims as silently as possible. 

He had expected the stranger to fight back. He had not expected the water whip that blindsided him, nor the followup attack that sent him reeling into the wall and noisily broke every dish in the apartment. That, of course, woke the shopkeeper and his wife, but Zuko barely had any attention to spare for them as he hastily dodged a volley of ice daggers aimed at him.

So the mysterious prowler was a waterbender. Strange.

He didn’t like the idea of fighting in such an enclosed space, and he seemed to have drawn the attacker’s full attention, so Zuko dove for the window, leading his adversary back outside. Sure enough, the stranger pursued him onto the rooftop, undaunted by the shopkeeper’s shouts. By that time, Zuko had drawn his dao swords, and was able to properly fight back.

They leapt from roof to roof, dancing around each other. Water and steel slashed and parried, glinting in the moonlight, and Zuko made a few key observations about his opponent. She was female, and though the sheer while veil she wore obscured her features, she seemed to have some kind of dark pattern painted on her face and arms. 

So this outlaw like to impersonate a spirit as well, did she.

Still, Zuko thought, as she drew rainwater from the gutters and formed it into watery tendrils on the end of each arm, there was something else familiar about her...

* * *

Katara had only heard vague tales of the Blue Spirit, but she figured it made sense that this was what she would get for impersonating the Painted Lady again, to be attacked by another spirit imposter.

No offense to Sokka, but when she’d seen the Blue Spirit draw his swords, she hadn’t expected much of a challenge. Most swordsmen in the Earth Kingdom just had no experience fighting waterbenders, and that gave her an advantage. But this one was proving to be different. The way he dodged and parried her attacks, it was almost like he was familiar with the forms, and knew what was coming. Her initial water whips might have caught him by surprise, but clearly she couldn’t count on that any longer.

Drawing rainwater from the gutters, she used a tentacle form instead, trying to keep out of range of his swords. She succeeded in wrestling one of them from his grasp, but he ducked under the swipe of the other tendril of water and got in close enough to land a kick on her wrist, making her lose control and drop the water from one hand. He swung his remaining sword around just as she froze the water she had left into a spear and brought it to bear, and they ended up at a stalemate, each with a sharp weapon pointed at the other’s throat.

A gust of wind tugged at her veil, parting it for just a moment. “Katara?” came a shocked exclamation from behind the Blue Spirit’s mask, in a voice she recognized instantly, which explained how he knew her waterbending moves so well.

“Zuko?” she exclaimed in turn.

* * *

The Blue Spirit lowered his sword. The Painted Lady melted her ice spear. She pushed the veil aside, pulled the broad hat from her head, and he took off his mask.

What was said between them was heard only by the first quarter moon overhead. But when they resumed their disguises, and took off again bounding over the rooftops of Ba Sing Se, together, the sound of their mingled laughter echoed through the night.


	4. Mentor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Who taught you how to play pai sho?"

Katara grins triumphantly, and reaches for the jasmine tile.

“You can’t move that piece,” Zuko cuts her off.

Her grin falters, brows knit together, and her bottom lip pokes out in a frustrated pout. “Why not?” she asks, folding her arms.

“It’s an earth element,” Zuko explains patiently. Katara knows this. “I have another earth element tile here,” he says, pointing. “Tiles of the same element on the same axis lock in place.” Katara knows this, too.

“But you’ve had your tile there for four turns,” Katara points out.

Zuko is unimpressed. “So?” he asks, eyebrow arching slightly.

“After four turns the lock breaks, and I can move that piece again.” Her hand shoots out towards the jasmine tile once more, but Zuko catches hold of it before she can touch the game piece.

“That is not a rule,” he challenges her.

Katara meets his eye. “Yes, it is,” she insists. He’s still holding her by the wrist, though she knows she could break his grip if she wanted to. He has the warmest hands of anyone she knows. They stare each other down for another moment before Zuko rolls his eyes and lets go.

“Who taught you how to play pai sho?” he asks.

“Sokka,” Katara replies, suddenly feeling a little defensive. Her feelings are not assuaged when Zuko scoffs in reply.

“Sokka cheats,” he says dismissively. “Don’t listen to what he says.”

Katara narrows her eyes. “How do I know you’re not trying to cheat?” she shoots back, though even as she says it she can’t help but smile a little at the ridiculous idea of Zuko cheating at a board game. That is definitely more something Sokka would do. Still, she feels compelled to defend her brother’s honor. “Who taught  _ you _ to play pai sho anyway?”

Zuko is smiling now, too, and Katara knows she’s lost the argument even before he says, “My uncle, and I think he knew what he was talking about.”

“Fine,” Katara acquiesces, though there’s no real bitterness in it. She scans the game board again, looking for another move. She has a moon peach tile there, which is a water element...if she moves the fire lily into the complementary position… “Opposite elements create a harmony,” she says as she picks up the piece and executes the move. Zuko doesn’t try to stop her this time. “Are we agreed on that rule?”

The Fire Lord leans across the game table and kisses his wife. “That, we can always agree on.”


	5. Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katara hates Zuko. Southern Sun AU.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in the AU of [Southern Sun](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17266064/chapters/40604147). Zuko has been banished to the South Pole. He's 13, Katara is 11.

Katara still practiced her waterbending in secret.

Ever since Zuko had come, Sokka wanted her to forget about her element altogether, and he would give her one of his “I’m your big brother and I know what’s best” lectures if she so much as stirred a pot of soup with her bending. The worst part was this time Gran Gran took his side.

Katara knew they were only trying to protect her. If their new Fire Nation chief found out what she could do, she would be sent away to some remote prison, or worse, just like all the other waterbenders before her. It might have been better - it certainly would have been safer - if Katara had been a nonbender.

But she  _ wasn’t, _ and she couldn’t just go her whole life pretending she was. So whenever she could find a moment to steal for herself, Katara would take a bowl of water and practice twisting it into different shapes.

It was hard. The water seemed to have a mind of its own sometimes, more than it would obey her commands. And the more frustrated she got, the more unpredictable it would become - sloshing everywhere, or suddenly freezing solid, or one time even shattering the bowl to pieces. Katara had been forced to feign ignorance when Gran Gran asked her why there were now only three bowls stacked neatly by the cooking fire instead of four.

They could get by with just three anyway, now that her father was gone.

The truth was, Katara had no idea what she was doing. As long as she could remember, she had been the only bender at the south pole. But there were two other benders here now.

Zuko had regular firebending lessons with his uncle, always conducted near where their small ship was moored, about twenty paces from the low village walls that had done nothing to keep him out. (Sokka said Zuko wanted to improve the villages defences once they got the hang of building houses, but Katara would believe it when she saw it.) Curious children often loitered at a safe distance to watch as General Iroh drilled their young chief on his firebending forms, occasionally correcting his footwork or his breathing. No one thought anything of it if Katara joined them.

The firebending forms looked powerful and intimidating, and if Katara didn’t join in the younger children’s awe-struck  _ oohs _ and  _ aahs,  _ it wasn’t because she wasn’t impressed by what she saw. She could tell, even from a distance, that Zuko would often get frustrated with himself, just like she did. But he could produce jets of fire with ease. He got to wield his element out in broad daylight without caring who saw. And he never lost control.

Katara hated Zuko, and she didn’t care who knew it. But secretly, she also envied him.

* * *

Zuko hadn’t expected anyone at the south pole to actually like him.

He knew from the moment his father had sent him here that his task would not be easy. Governing the small, isolated, primitive tribe presented its own challenges, of course, though Zuko was determined to rise to meet them. It was the conditions for his return to the Fire Nation that posed the greatest problem - first of all finding a waterbender, when there were apparently none left, and then on top of that somehow winning that waterbender’s loyalty.

For the former condition, Zuko was prepared to be patient. Any of the younger children might manifest waterbending abilities someday. But as for the latter...well, Zuko was less confident in his own ability to win people over.

The Water Tribe peasants respected his position as chief, but Zuko quickly learned that this was not the same as respecting him. Even Sokka, who proved to be the most willing to work with him, could not be counted as  _ loyal _ to him. When they weren’t working on one of Zuko’s building projects together, Sokka kept as much wary distance from him as everyone else in the tribe.

And then there was Sokka’s little sister.

If the rest of the tribe was wary of him, the looks Katara gave him were positively lethal. Unlike the cool neutrality her brother had adopted, Katara seemed to be brimming with anger at him. Zuko hadn’t expected anyone to like him, and the daughter of the disgraced chief he was replacing least of all, but it still got under his skin, being outright  _ hated _ like that, and by a child, no less.

But he also knew the last raid had resulted in her mother’s death, and there was nothing he could do about that.

Yet for all Katara’s hatred, he was its sole target. To the rest of the tribe, she was warm and kind, looking after the younger children, dutifully helping the women with various chores, and even though she bickered with Sokka, Zuko could tell it was nothing like how Azula treated him. And Sokka, for all his grumbling, was obviously as fond of his sister as the rest of the tribe was. Everyone loved Katara, and she made being loved look easy.

Zuko knew why Katara hated him, and he even felt sorry for her. But secretly, he also envied her.


	6. Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sorry,” Zuko says. “That’s something we have in common.” And that’s when it starts. Soulmate AU

“I’m sorry,” Zuko says. “That’s something we have in common.” And that’s when it starts, just a tingling sensation at first where those very words are written on her skin. Not the first words he’s ever said to her, it’s very rare that anyone finds their soulmate that easily, but the first words that really matter.

Katara ignores it at first, tells herself she misheard, he didn’t say _exactly_ those words - though he did, she knows he did, she’s only waited her whole life to hear them. But as he tells her the story of what happened to his mother, the tingling becomes a prickling, then a burning feeling on the inside of her right wrist. She clasps that arm protectively to her chest, but if Zuko suspects what the gesture betrays, he doesn’t show it.

Not until the conversation turns to his scar, and what it means, and with her soulmark pressed against the vial of spirit water under her dress she says, “Maybe you could be free of it.” That’s when he suddenly gasps, and clutches at his own wrist - the right side, just like hers - and their eyes meet, and they both know. They’ve found each other.

But neither of them says anything to acknowledge it, not yet. She offers to heal his scar, but when she lays her hand on his face, they keep their wrists well away from each other. Now that they’ve both spoken their words, their bond will be sealed when their soulmarks touch. Katara isn’t ready for that. Neither, it seems, is Zuko.

That’s when Aang and Iroh find them, and everything after that happens so fast, and she never gets the chance to try healing him, or to do anything else. And then Zuko makes his choice, and they are enemies again, no matter what happened between them in that crystal cave, and she knows there never will be another chance, and she doesn’t want one.

But as they flee the fallen Earth Kingdom capital, her wrist is still burning.

* * *

Aang nearly died. The eclipse is coming. There’s an invasion to prepare for, a war to be won. Katara has plenty of other things to worry about besides the words on her wrist, and she focuses on those things with all her might. Most of the time, it works. Most of the time.

There are people in the world without soulmarks, and there are stories of people who never find their soulmates, whose words eventually fade away. But Katara has never heard of soulmates who found each other, who spoke their words, but didn’t seal the bond. She has no idea what’s supposed to happen in this scenario.

The burning feeling sometimes flares up, and sometimes ebbs, but it never goes away. On the days when it feels like a hot brand being pressed to her skin, Katara retreats to her tent in the evening and curl up, alone, with her wrist held to her chest just like she had done in the cave, and she wonders, angrily, desperately, if it will ever stop. She’s tried ignoring it, and she’s tried healing it, but when it’s this bad nothing helps. This is a hurt beyond the powers of her will or her bending to fix.

Once, she removes the gloves she wears, and traces the burning words on her skin with her index finger. “That’s something we have in common,” she whispers. She wonders if Zuko’s mark burns like this, too, or if his feels frozen, the cold bite of ice under his skin that will never thaw.

* * *

“You’ve found him, haven’t you?” Aang says to her on the day of the invasion. “Your soulmate.”

They’ve never talked about it, but Aang has no soulmark. This can mean many things. It’s never seemed like a priority to Katara, and it certainly isn’t now.

She clenches her right hand into a fist, and draws her arm to her chest again, self-consciously, the very gesture she has caught herself in unwittingly several times over the last few weeks, which has probably given away her secret. “It doesn’t matter,” she says through gritted teeth.

“Yes, it does,” Aang replies sadly. Then, unexpectedly, he kisses her, a good-bye kiss full of regret, and just as suddenly he flies away to fulfill his destiny.

Katara watches him disappear into the darkening skies as the moon moves fully in front of the sun. The words on her wrist throb painfully.

* * *

When Zuko finds them at the air temple, it only gets worse. 

He doesn’t say anything about their marks, not in front of the others, and neither does she. Sokka pulls her aside, later, when the group has accepted his help, and asks her why she is so much more hostile towards him than anyone else. After all, Aang and Toph were the ones who got hurt. The observation is pointed and Katara thinks her brother might suspect what Aang has already figured out, at least in part. She denies having any particular animosity towards Zuko, and insists she’s only worried about keeping Aang safe.

She’s repeating the same lie to herself when she corners Zuko in his room.

He has the temerity, the sheer _nerve_ to look happy to see her, but the hint of a smile falls from his face fast enough. “We both know you’ve struggled with doing the right thing before,” she reminds him. Her wrist is burning hot as ever, and while she has her gloves on, securly covering her mark, his forearms are bare. She can see her own words on his skin, _Maybe you could be free of it_ , and part of her aches to bare her own mark, to let them touch and put an end to this agony.

“If you make one wrong move,” she tells him instead. “I’ll make sure your destiny ends. Permanently.” And maybe, if it comes to that, then her mark will fade, and all of this will really be over.

Zuko doesn’t say anything in response to her threats. He just looks at her remorsefully, and flexes his right hand, and she knows his mark must be hurting him as much as hers does. Katara storms out of the room, unsatisfied.

* * *

“What are you doing,” she snaps at him when he saves her life.

“Stopping rocks from crushing you,” he bites back. He’s still wrapped protectively around her, hovering, and she knows he’s trying to touch her as little as possible now, but it had been unavoidable, when he snatched her out of the way of the collapsing ceiling and broke her fall with his own body. Her back to his chest, his arm around her waist, every point of contact sets off a new stab of pain in her wrist, because it’s not the one contact that will set things right, the one she wants to avoid more than anything.

“Well, I’m not crushed,” she says, pushing him away, more grateful than ever for her gloves covering her wrists. “So you can get off me now.”

She returns the favor not long after, catching him out of the air and pulling him to safety on Appa’s saddle. She lets go hastily, but not before her fingertips have accidentally brushed against his mark. A cold pit settles in her stomach at the touch, and the way he shivers from the brief contact, just as the heat in her own mark flares, confirms what she had suspected, that he is freezing while she burns.

* * *

“Your mother was a brave woman,” Zuko tells her, and there’s an echo of his fateful words from the crystal caves in it. Somehow, against all odds, Zuko understands this part of her better than anyone.

He’s very careful, on their whole journey together, to give her space. Not once does he so much as touch her hand. But it’s too late for such precautions. His mere proximity is inflaming her mark. Her skin feels unusually sweaty under her glove, the first outward manifestation of her pain, and she thinks the tips of Zuko’s fingers might be turning a bit blue. She doesn’t dwell on it, letting her anger at her mother’s killer consume her instead.

After the confrontation, when they make camp that night, just the two of them, Katara lies on her back staring up at the full moon and thinking about all the ways she struggles to do the right thing, too. Something else they have in common, maybe.

She turns her head towards where Zuko is lying several feet away, curled around his right arm. In the light of the dying campfire, she can see how he is shivering. “Are you cold?” she asks softly. There’s barely a chill in the summer night air.

“It’s the mark,” Zuko replies in a whisper, the first time either of them has said anything about it out loud. “Ever since Ba Sing Se, it’s like there’s a huge block of ice pressed on my arm, and I can’t get properly warm.” He rolls onto his back, tucking his right arm protectively under his left. “It’s crushing me,” he adds, so softly Katara almost doesn’t hear it.

Katara looks back up at the moon hanging over them. “It’s burning me up,” she whispers back, voice choked with tears. Neither of them moves, or says anything else after that, and neither of them sleeps well that night.

She forgives him. She even hugs him. But she still wears her gloves.

* * *

“Pretty stupid play, isn’t it?” Zuko says when she finds him on the balcony outside the theater.

“Yeah,” she agrees, thinking about the cheesy embrace between their actor counterparts, grateful the playwright has no idea what really happened in the caves under Ba Sing Se - or what might have happened, if she had been less hesitant. The words under her glove burn hotter when she leans against the railing next to him, the way they always do when the two of them get closer. She unsuccessfully tries to suppress a grimace, and Zuko fails to hide a shudder. “Can I ask you something?” she says quietly.

“Sure,” he replies, looking up at the full moon. His arms are folded on the railing, and he leans forward slightly so his right arm is tucked against his chest. Katara knows it won’t help him any.

“In Ba Sing Se,” she begins tentatively. “If we’d...if there had been more time…” She watches his face carefully, his profile bathed in moonlight, to gauge his reaction. “Do you think things would have gone differently?”

Zuko closes his eyes and lets out a long sigh. “I don’t know, Katara,” he replies sadly.

There’s another throb of pain under her glove, and Zuko presses his arms tighter to his chest. “You don’t know?” Katara echoes. If they had been bonded soulmates, he might have still betrayed her? “You don’t think it would have made any difference?”

Zuko looks down at her as if her question has hurt him as much as his answer did her. “Of course it would have made a difference,” he says, uncrossing his arms. Katara catches another glimpse of his words, her eyes landing on the character for “free”, before he places his right hand over his heart. “What I mean is, my bad choice wasn’t your fault.”

It’s not a comforting answer. It doesn’t undo the past or reassure her about the future. But she knows it’s the truthful answer, and that’s the best she can hope for. Like Zuko said himself on that fateful day, he is free to choose his own destiny. And so is she.

And they will both have to live with the consequences of their choices.

* * *

The lightning seems to hit him in slow motion. Katara realizes several things at once.

By taking that lightning, Zuko has gambled everything - his own life, the future of his nation and even the world - and he’s done it to save her. If he dies, she can still defeat Azula, maybe. If he dies, Iroh could be Fire Lord after all, maybe. If he dies, her soulmark will fade, and she will be free of the pain that has been tormenting her since Ba Sing Se.

She would rather live with that pain for the rest of her life than let him die.

Time resumes its normal pace. She fights Azula. She wins. She runs to Zuko, praying she’s not too late. Her mark is radiating shooting pains all up her arm, darts of fire that reach her shoulder and even deeper, as she presses healing water to his chest.

“Thank you, Katara,” he says, voice raspy and weak, only just back from the brink of death.

“I think I should be the one thanking you,” she replies. She helps him sit up, then stand. Their eyes meet, and they both know. They can go the rest of their lives bound to each other by pain, or they can look to each other for solace. With trembling hands, she removes her right glove.

Their palms meet first, then their fingers interlace. He pulls her into a close embrace, she rests her head on his shoulder, and their arms twist, wrist to wrist pressed between them, soulmarks touching at last, her hand clutched to his chest and his hand over her heart. Her fire and his ice flow one into the other, mingle, and at last know relief in the balance.

They’ve found each other.


	7. Easier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During the last few minutes of the intermission, Zuko stepped outside for some air. He wasn't looking for Katara, but he found her anyway.

After Toph had left him to investigate the snack situation, Zuko hadn’t gone looking for Katara. But even when he wasn’t looking for her, he seemed to always end up finding her anyway. That was what had really happened in Ba Sing Se, after all, and it happened again when he stepped outside the theater for some fresh air.

The intermission was almost over, so the gardens outside were empty, except for one aggravated waterbender pacing between the flower beds and talking to herself. Surprised by this sight, Zuko caught the tail end of her tirade before he could say anything to alert her to his presence. “...ridiculous idea that I would want to kiss him, when I - Oh!” Katara cut herself off as she spun on her heel and noticed she had an audience. “Zuko, I, um, didn’t see you there.”

“Sorry,” Zuko apologized instinctively, hoping the fact that he still had the hood of his cloak up meant that she wouldn’t be able to tell he was blushing as much as she was. Of course he had known the players’ interpretation of what had happened in the crystal caves was ridiculous, but hearing Katara outright dismiss the idea with such vehemence was still a little bit of a blow to his pride. He had no illusions that the two of them were anything more than friends, but he didn’t think she would have been quite so outraged at the mere suggestion. “I tried to warn you this theater company was terrible,” he offered in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood.

To his surprise, Katara actually laughed. The worry lines disappeared from her face and the tension in her shoulders relaxed a little, and Zuko realized she wasn’t laughing at him - she really thought his joke was funny.

“I’m not angry about the play,” Katara said with a vague gesture towards the theater doors where they would soon have to return. “I mean, yeah, it is terrible, but it’s just a show.” Her arms dropped to her sides and she rolled her eyes towards the clear night sky. “I wish everybody could remember that,” she added.

Now Zuko was lost. If she hadn’t been talking about the play, then what? He pushed his hood back and took a few steps into the garden, closer to Katara. “Did something else happen?”

Katara shrugged evasively. “It’s just…” She looked at him carefully for a moment, considering. “Promise you won’t say anything about this to anyone else?”

“I promise,” Zuko replied without hesitation. He had already broken her trust once, and that was enough for a lifetime.

Katara waited another moment, then took a deep breath. “Aang got upset because the play said he was like a brother to me.” She resumed her pacing between the fire lilies and the low hedgerows, punctuating her rambling explanation with sharp gestures. “But it was like he was upset with  _ me, _ instead of the actors or whoever wrote it. And I sort of understand why, because I have been avoiding it, but just because he kissed me one time with  _ no _ warning when we were about to  _ invade the Fire Nation _ doesn’t mean he’s my boyfriend or anything!”

Whatever Zuko had been expected to be the thing that was bothering Katara, that wasn’t it. “Wait, slow down…” he said, but Katara ignored him. Now that she had decided to open the floodgates, it seemed there was no holding back.

“He was already so worked up and I didn’t want to make things worse, so I just told him I was confused and it wasn’t the right time.” Reaching the hedgerow, Katara spun around back to facing him. “And then he tried to kiss me  _ again!  _ Can you believe him?”

Her rant apparently at an end with this rhetorical question, she looked up at Zuko expectantly, slightly breathless, face flushed with anger or embarrassment or both.

“Oh,” Zuko said. He was not prepared for the turn this conversation had taken. Aang’s crush on Katara was obvious, but he hadn’t thought the Avatar was  _ that _ serious about it. Nor had he realized how uncomfortable it apparently made Katara. “Did you tell him you didn’t want him to do that?”

“Of course I did!” Katara exclaimed. But then she deflated a little. “I mean, I reminded him that I had  _ just said _ I was confused, and I think he got the message.”

The lanterns around the theater brightened and then dimmed, indicating it was time for the theater patrons to return to their seats. But Zuko didn’t want to just leave things there. “Maybe you need to be a little more direct with him,” he suggested. Not that he was in a great position to be giving relationship advice to anyone, but he did know Aang well enough by now to know how eternally optimistic the young Avatar was. If there was even a tiny chance, that was all he would see.

Katara looked back towards the theater doors with a frustrated sigh, but made no move to go in. “I just don’t want to hurt him,” she said. “He’s got so many other things to deal with right now, this should be the least of his worries.”

Her protective concerned sparked something like recognition, and the first dawning of a realization. “You know,” Zuko thought out loud, “that sort of reminds me of my uncle.”

Katara gave him a patient smile. “Are you going to tell me a proverb about clouds or something?”

It was Zuko’s turn to laugh. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “Not something my uncle said, but what he did...or didn’t do, I guess.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts. “You know, I was looking for the Avatar for three years, and Uncle was with me that whole time, and he must have always wanted me to realize the truth about the war and everything, and how my father didn’t care about me the way I wanted him to.”

Katara frowned. “Am I your uncle or your father in this analogy?”

“Neither,” Zuko replied hastily, looking away towards the lights of the town on the other side of the garden. “That’s not the point. My uncle never pushed me to see the truth until he had to, but when I did realize...it still hurt.” Katara had come closer, and was standing by his elbow now. “It’s a good thing, that I know the truth now, but...it had to hurt. There was no way around that.”

“So you think,” Katara said slowly, “that Aang is going to have to be hurt, too.”

Zuko looked back at her to find she was staring at the fire lilies at their feet. “Unless you change your mind,” he replied. She hadn’t outright said she’d made up her mind to begin with, even in this conversation with him, but given how upset she had been when he found her...well, Zuko didn’t think he was presuming too much.

And Katara didn’t argue that point. “But why now?” she protested instead. “Why can’t it wait?”

“Because  _ he’s _ bringing it up now,” Zuko reminded her. “And if he thinks he’s mature enough to try to kiss you, he has to be mature enough to deal with rejection, too.” The theater lights flickered one last time, then settled to a low flame, leaving the gardens mostly illuminated by moonlight. Still the two of them stood there, Zuko waiting to see if Katara had anything more to say.

“Thanks, Zuko,” she broke the silence at last. “It’s much easier to talk about this with you than with him.” Then she hugged him, not dramatically throwing her arms around him like she had on the dock, but gently tucking herself into his side, arms around his waist. He hugged her back without thinking about it, because it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Katara? Are you - oh!” Suki’s voice came from behind them, and Katara pulled away from the hug, the picture of perfect innocence. Zuko tried to affect the same, though his heart was beating just a little too fast. “Sorry, am I interrupting something?” Suki asked, giving both of them a scrutinizing look.

“No, we were just about to go back in,” Katara answered smoothly, stepping forward and linking arms with Suki. “Let’s see how the rest of this disaster of a play goes.”

Suki laughed and let Katara lead her back towards their box, and Zuko followed behind the two girls. Hopefully, the play  _ would _ be the only disaster they’d have to deal with for the rest of the night.

But when they slipped back into their seats quietly, the third act already begun on stage, and Katara reached over and surreptitiously squeezed Zuko’s hand in a final gesture of thanks, his heart skipped a beat, and he knew there was definitely going to be more trouble for him on the horizon.


End file.
